_Chapter XIX_
But Lucilla's good luck and powers of persuasion were such that after awhile she even succeeded in convincing little Rose Lake of the perfectreasonableness, and indeed necessity, of sacrificing herself to thepublic interests of the community. "As for enjoying it," MissMarjoribanks said, "that is quite a different matter. Now and thenperhaps for a minute one enjoys it; but that is not what I am thinkingof. One owes something to one's fellow-creatures, you know; and if itmade the evening go off well, I should not mind in the least to behustled up in a corner and contradicted. To be sure, I don't rememberthat it ever happened to me; but then I have such luck; and I am sure Igive you full leave to box the Archdeacon's ears next Thursday; or totell him he does not know anything in the world about art," said MissMarjoribanks thoughtfully, with a new combination rising in her mind.
"Thank you, Lucilla," said Rose, "but I shall not come back again. I ammuch obliged to you. It does not do for people who have work to do. Mytime is all I have, and I cannot afford to waste it, especially----"
"Rose," said Miss Marjoribanks, "how are you ever to be an artist if youdo not know life? That is just the very reason why you ought to go outinto the world; and I don't see, for my part, that it matters whether itis pleasant or not. To practise scales all day long is anything butpleasant, but then one has to do it, you know. I don't blame you," saidLucilla, with tender condescension. "You are a dear little thing, andyou don't know any better; but _I_ went through Political Economy, andlearnt all about that;--you don't think _I_ choose it for the pleasure?But you all know what is the object of my life, and I hope I am not oneto shrink from my duty," Miss Marjoribanks added. And it was difficultto reply to such a sublime declaration. Little Rose left her friend withthe conviction that it was her duty, too, to sacrifice herself for thebenefit of society and the advancement of art. Such were the loftysentiments elicited naturally, as enthusiasm responds to enthusiasm, byLucilla's self-devotion. Already, although she was not much more thantwenty, she had the consoling consciousness that she had wrought a greatwork in Carlingford; and if Miss Marjoribanks required a littlesacrifice from her assistants, she did not shrink from making the samein her own person, as has been shadowed forth in the case of MrCavendish, and as will yet, in the course of this history, be still moreseriously and even sadly evolved.
Three weeks had passed in this way, making it still more and morevisible to Lucilla how much she had lost in losing Mr Cavendish, of whomnothing as yet had been heard, when suddenly, one day, aboutluncheon-time, at the hour when Miss Marjoribanks was known to be athome, the drawing-room door opened without any warning, and the missingman walked in. It was thus that Lucilla herself described the unexpectedapparition, which appeared to her to have dropped from the clouds. Sheavowed afterwards to Mrs Chiley that his entrance was so utterlyunexpected, so noiseless, and without warning, that she felt quitesilly, and could not tell in the least how she behaved; though thefriends of Miss Marjoribanks, it is to be hoped, are too well acquaintedwith her promptitude of mind and action to imagine that she in any waycompromised herself even under the surprise of the moment. As for MrCavendish, he exhibited a certain mixture of timidity and excitementwhich it was remarkable, and indeed rather flattering for any lady tosee, in such an accomplished man of the world. Lucilla was not a personto deceive herself, nor did she want experience in such matters, as hasbeen already shown; but it would be vain to deny that the convictionforced upon her mind by the demeanour of her visitor was that it was aman _about to propose_ who thus made his unlooked-for appearance beforeher. She confessed afterwards to her confidential friend that he had allthe signs of it in his looks and manners. "He gave that little nervouscough," Lucilla said, "and pulled his cravat _just so_, and stared intohis hat as if he had it all written down there; and looked as Theyalways look," Miss Marjoribanks added, with a touch of natural contempt.Nor was this all the change in Mr Cavendish's appearance. He had managedmiraculously in his month's absence to grow the most charming littlemoustache and beard, which were, to be sure, slightly red, like mostpeople's. It gleamed into Miss Marjoribanks's mind in a moment thatpeople did such things sometimes by way of disguising themselves; butif such had been Mr Cavendish's intention, it had utterly failed, sincehe seemed rather more like himself than before, in Lucilla's opinion,and certainly was more likely to attract attention, since beards werenot so usual in these days. They met on the very spot where Lucilla hadseen him last, with that look of insane terror on his handsome face. Andthe Archdeacon was still in Carlingford, if it was he who had occasionedsuch a panic. Mr Cavendish came in as if he had never been absent, as ifhe had seen Miss Marjoribanks on the previous night, and had no fear ofanything in the world but of failing to please her; and Lucillafortunately saw the nature of the position, and was not to be put outeven by such an emergency. Of course, under the circumstances, to accepthim was utterly out of the question; but, at the same time, Lucilla didnot feel it expedient, without much more distinct information, to put adefinitive and cruel negative on Mr Cavendish's hopes. As for BarbaraLake, that was a trifle not worth thinking of; and, notwithstanding thatthere was something rather unaccountable in his conduct, he was stillthe probable member for Carlingford, just, as Mrs Chiley so often said,the position which, of all others, she would have chosen for Lucilla; sothat Miss Marjoribanks was not prepared, without due consideration, tobring the matter to a final end.
While Lucilla made this rapid summary of affairs and took her stand inher own mind, Mr Cavendish had taken a chair and had opened theconversation. He hoped he had not been entirely forgotten, though afortnight's absence was a severe tax on anybody's memory----
"A fortnight!" said Miss Marjoribanks; "how happy you must have beenwhile you have been away!--for I assure you a month is a month atCarlingford; and one does not get such ornaments in two weeks," saidLucilla, putting her hand to her chin, which made Mr Cavendish laugh,and look more nervous than ever.
"It is a souvenir of where I have been," he said. "I could imagine I hadbeen gone two years, judging by my own feelings. I am so pleased to seethat you remember how long it is. I dare say it looked a little drollrunning away so, but I dared not trust myself with leave-takings," MrCavendish said, with an air of sentiment. "I have been watching over apoor friend of mine on his sick-bed. He was once very good to me, andwhen he sent for me I could not delay or refuse him. I found he hadtelegraphed for me when I got home the last Thursday evening I washere," he continued, looking Lucilla full in the face with the candourof conscious truth--though, to be sure, when people are stating a simplefact, it is seldom that they take the pains to be so particular. "Istarted by the night-train, and crossed the Channel while you were allfast asleep. I wonder if any one gave me a thought," continued MrCavendish; and it was still more and more impressed upon Lucilla that hehad all the signs of a man who had come to propose.
"I cannot say about that night in particular, but I am sure a great manypeople have given you a thought," said Miss Marjoribanks. "We have allbeen wondering what had become of you, where you were, and when you werecoming back. So far as I am concerned, I have missed you dreadfully,"said Lucilla, with her usual openness; and she really thought for amoment that Mr Cavendish in a sudden transport was going down on hisknees.
"I scarcely hoped for so much happiness," he said; and though he kept upthe tone proper to good society, which might mean sport or earnestaccording as the occasion required, there was a certain air of gratitudeand tenderness in his face which sent Lucilla's active mind a-wondering."He is thinking of the music-stand," she said to herself, and then wenton with what she was saying; for though Miss Marjoribanks had a verygood opinion of herself, it had not occurred to her that Mr Cavendishwas very deeply in love--with _her_, at all events.
"Ah, yes--not only for the flirting, you know, which of itself is adreadful loss; but then you were so good in keeping the gentlemen totheir duty. I missed you dreadfully--there has been nobody at all tohelp me," said Lucilla. Her tone was so genuinely plaintive th
at MrCavendish grew more and more moved. He put down his hat, he cleared histhroat, he got up and walked to the window--evidently he was getting uphis courage for the last step.
"But I heard you had some distinguished strangers here," he said, comingback to his seat without having, as it appeared, made up his mind. "Mysister wrote--that is to say I heard--I really don't remember how I gotthe news; a dean, or bishop, or something----?"
"Oh, yes, Mr Archdeacon Beverley; he came precisely the night you wentaway," said Lucilla. "Didn't you see him? I thought you stayed tillafter he came into the room. A nice clergyman is very nice, you know;but, after all, a man who has some experience in society--and we havehad no music to speak of since you went away. Poor dear Barbara has hadsuch a bad cold. In short, we have all been at sixes and sevens; and theArchdeacon----"
"Oh, never mind the Archdeacon," said Mr Cavendish, and MissMarjoribanks felt that he had not winced at the name, though he didglance up at her in spite of himself with a little gleam in his eyeswhen she mentioned Barbara Lake. Perhaps this was because he knewnothing about the Archdeacon, perhaps because he was prepared to hearthe Archdeacon named. Lucilla did not give him all the benefit of theuncertainty, for she began to get a little impatient, and to wonder, ifthe man had come to propose, as appearances suggested, why he did not doit and get done with it?--which was a very reasonable question. Thistime, however, it certainly was coming. "I don't like nice clergymen,"said Mr Cavendish, "especially not when it is _you_ who find them so. IfI could really flatter myself that you missed me----"
"We all did," said Lucilla; "there is no compliment about it; and poordear Barbara has had such a cold----"
"Ah!" said the unfortunate aspirant; and once more he gave a doubtfulglance at Lucilla--decidedly the name of Barbara had more effect uponhim than that of the Archdeacon. It seemed to damp his fire and smotherthe words on his lips, and he had to take another promenade to thewindow to recover himself. After that, however, he came back evidentlywound up and determined; and his eyes, as he returned to MissMarjoribanks's side, fell upon the music-stand by means of which she hadcovered his fright and flight (if it was not a mere hallucination onLucilla's part that he had been frightened and had fled) on the night heleft Carlingford. He came back with the air of a man who means to delayand deliberate no more.
"If I could flatter myself that _you_ had missed me," he said;"_you_--not any one else--I might have the courage to ask----"
It was at that precise moment of all moments that Mrs Chiley, whom theyhad not heard coming upstairs, though she was sufficiently audible,suddenly opened the door. Mr Cavendish, as was natural, broke off in amoment with a face which had turned crimson, and even Lucilla herselffelt a little annoyed and put out, when, as in duty bound, she got up tomeet and welcome her old friend. One thing was fortunate, as MissMarjoribanks afterwards reflected, that since it was to be interrupted,it had been interrupted so early, before he could have put himself inany ridiculous attitude, for example; for at such moments it is wellknown that some men go down upon their knees--or at least such is theineradicable belief of womankind. If Mr Cavendish had been on hisknees--though, to tell the truth, he was not a very likely subject--theposition would have been much more embarrassing. But as it was, therewas an end. _He_ turned back again to the window, biting his glove inthe most frantic way, and taking up his hat, while _she_, alwaysmistress of the position, advanced to the new-comer with outstretchedhands.
"I know you have come to have lunch with me," said Lucilla. "You arealways so nice--just when I wanted you; for, of course, I dared not haveasked Mr Cavendish to go downstairs if I had been all alone."
"Mr Cavendish!" cried the old lady, with a little scream. "So he hasreally come back! I am so glad to see you. I can't tell you how glad Iam to see you; and, I declare, with a beard! Oh, you need not blush forwhat I say. I am old enough to be both your grandmothers, and I am soglad to see you together again!" said Mrs Chiley, with an imprudenteffusion of sentiment. And it may be imagined what the effect of thisutterance was upon the suitor whose love-making (if he was really goingto make love) was thus cut short in the bud. He coughed more than everwhen he shook hands with the new-comer, and kept fast hold of his hatwith that despairing grasp which is common to men in trouble. And thenhe kept looking at the door, as if he expected some one else to come in,or wanted to escape; and so far from following up his interruptedaddress by any explanatory or regretful glances, he never even looked atLucilla, which, to be sure, struck her as odd enough.
"Miss Marjoribanks is very good," he said, "and I am very glad to seeyou so soon after my return, Mrs Chiley--though, of course, I shouldhave called; but I may have to go away in a day or two; and I am afraidI cannot have the pleasure of staying to lunch."
"Oh, yes, you must stay," said Mrs Chiley; "I want to hear all about it.Go away again in a day or two? If I were Lucilla I would not let you goaway. She is queen now in Carlingford, you know;--and then poor old MrChiltern is so ill. I hope you won't think of going away. They all sayit would be such a pity if anything happened to him while you were away.Tell me where you have been, and what you have been doing all this time.We have missed you so dreadfully. And now you look quite like a militaryman with that beard."
"I have been nursing a sick friend--on the Continent," said MrCavendish; "not very cheerful work. I am sorry about Mr Chiltern, but Icannot help it. I have doubts now whether, even if he were to die, Ishould offer myself. I couldn't give pledges to all the shopkeepersabout my opinions," said the embarrassed man; and as he spoke, he puthis hat against his breast like a buckler. "I must not detain you fromyour lunch. Good-bye, Miss Marjoribanks; I am very sorry I can't stay."
"But, dear me, stop a minute--don't run away from us," said Mrs Chiley."Come and talk it all over with the Colonel, there is a dear--and don'tdo anything rash. Good-bye, if you _will_ go," said the old lady. Shesat with a look of consternation in her face, looking at MissMarjoribanks, as he made his way downstairs. "Did I come in at a wrongtime, Lucilla?" said Mrs Chiley, in distress. "Have you refused him, mydear? What is the matter? I am so dreadfully afraid I came in at thewrong time."
"Dear Mrs Chiley," said Lucilla sweetly, "you can never come in at awrong time; and it is just as well, on the whole, that he didn't--for Iwas not prepared to give him any answer. I am sure, on the contrary, itwas quite providential," Miss Marjoribanks said; but it may be doubtedwhether Lucilla's mind perfectly corresponded to her words on thisoccasion, though she was so amiable about it, as Mrs Chiley afterwardssaid. For even when a woman has not her answer ready, she has always acertain curiosity about a proposal; and then when such a delicate matteris crushed in the bud like this, who can tell if it will ever blossomagain, and find full expression? Miss Marjoribanks could not be said tobe disappointed, but unquestionably she regretted a little that he hadnot been permitted to say out his say. As for Mrs Chiley, when sheunderstood all the rights of it, she was afflicted beyond measure, andcould not forgive herself for the unlucky part she had played.
"If you had only said you were engaged," the old lady exclaimed, "or notat home--or anything, Lucilla! You know, you need never stand onceremony with me. No wonder he looked as if he could eat me! Poorfellow! and I dare say he has gone away with his heart full," said MrsChiley, with the tenderest sympathy. She could not get over it, nor eatany lunch, nor think of anything else. "Poor dear boy! He need not havebeen so put out with an old woman like me. He might have known if he hadgiven me the least hint, or even a look, I would have gone away," saidthe kind old woman. "But you must be all the kinder to him when he comesback, Lucilla. And, my dear, if I were you, I would stay in thisafternoon. He is sure to come back, and I would not keep him in pain."
"I don't think he will come back," Lucilla could not help saying; forshe had a conviction that nothing more would come of it; butnevertheless she did stay in that afternoon, and received severalvisits, but saw nothing more of Mr Cavendish. It was rather vexatious,to tell the truth; for to see a man so near the point and not ev
en tohave the satisfaction of refusing him, is naturally aggravating to awoman. But Miss Marjoribanks had far too much philosophy as well as goodsense to be vexed on that account with Mrs Chiley, who could not forgiveherself, and to make up for the consequences of her unlucky visit, wouldhave done anything in the world. The old lady herself returned in theafternoon to know the result, and was doubly vexed and distressed tohear he had not come back.
"I ought to be on the Archdeacon's side, Lucilla," she said, with tearsin her eyes. "I know I ought, when it was I that brought him here: but Ican't help feeling for the other, my dear. He always was so nice--agreat deal nicer, to my way of thinking, than Mr Beverley; not to saybut that the Archdeacon is very agreeable," Mrs Chiley added,recollecting herself; for in matters of that description a woman ofexperience is aware that she cannot be too particular about what shesays; and supposing that Mr Cavendish did not come back, it would neverdo to prejudice Lucilla against the other candidate. "I never blamed MrCavendish about that Lake girl," the old lady continued. "It was not hisfault, poor young man. I know he was always devoted to you in his heart;and to think he should come here the very first place as soon as hereturned! I only wish I had had one of my headaches this morning, mydear, to keep me indoors for an old Malaprop. I do indeed, Lucilla. Itwould have served me right, and I should not have minded the pain."
"But indeed I don't wish anything of the sort," said Miss Marjoribanks."I would not have the best man in the world at the cost of one of thosedreadful headaches of yours. It is so good of you to say so; but youknow very well it is not that sort of thing I am thinking of. If I wereto go off and marry just now, after all that has been done to thedrawing-room and everything, I should feel as if I were swindling papa;and it is the object of my life to be a comfort to _him_."
"Yes, my dear," said Mrs Chiley, "but we must not neglect your owninterest for all that. I think it is most likely he will come thisevening. He has just come from the Continent, you know, where people domake calls in the evening. I meant to have asked you to come down to us,as we shall be all alone----"
"All alone? Then where is the Archdeacon?" asked Lucilla.
"He has gone out to Sir John's for a day or two, my dear," said MrsChiley, and she could not understand the little gleam of intelligencethat shot into Lucilla's eye. "He left word with me for you that hewould be sure to be back before Thursday, but seeing Mr Cavendish when Icame in made me forget all about it. He would be quite distressed, poorman! if he thought I had forgotten to give you his message. I won't askyou now to come down and cheer me up a little, Lucilla. I think poor MrCavendish is sure to come this evening, and I will not stand in his wayagain. But, my dear, you must send me a little note after he has been.Now promise. I shall be quite in suspense all night."
"Dear Mrs Chiley, I don't think he will come," said Miss Marjoribanks."For my part, I think it was providential your coming to-day--for I amsure I don't know what I should have said to him. And it is so odd theArchdeacon should be away just at this moment. I feel quite sure he willnot come to-night."
"There is nothing odd about the Archdeacon," said Mrs Chiley. "It wasfor to-day he was asked, you know; _that_ is simple enough. If you aresure that you prefer the Archdeacon, my dear----" the old lady added,with an anxious look. But Lucilla cut short the inquiry, which wasbecoming too serious, by bringing her kind visitor a cup of tea.
"I hope you don't think I prefer any of them," said the injured maiden."If I had been thinking of that sort of thing, you know, I need neverhave come home. If they would only let one do one's duty in peace andquiet," said Lucilla, with a sigh; and to tell the truth, both theladies had occasion on that trying afternoon for the consolation oftheir cup of tea. But while they were thus refreshing themselves, aconversation of a very different kind, yet affecting the same interests,was being carried on not very far off, under the shelter of a littleflowery arbour in another of the embowered gardens of Grange Lane, wherethe subject was just then being discussed from the other side.
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